


Synergy

by SetAblaze



Series: Andromeda: It's Broken But It's Home [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Anxiety, But still taken seriously, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Not severe enough to be diagnosed, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship, Ryder has ADHD, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-30 22:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12662319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SetAblaze/pseuds/SetAblaze
Summary: Ryder wakes from an unsettling dream, and does her best to not disturb anyone. She would've been successful, if not for one concerned angara.





	Synergy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Pain Dreams Bring](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553656) by [twist_and_scream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twist_and_scream/pseuds/twist_and_scream). 



> To my best friend who was basically my beta reader, I FINALLY WROTE A THING, and I have you to thank, for helping me get on this site in the first place. You know who you are. 
> 
> Heavily inspired by "The Pain Dreams Bring" by twist_and_scream. I liked how this fic wrote dreams, and decided to apply my own personal understandings/experiences. Survivor's guilt and feelings of loss and grief in general impacts us in really weird ways. For me, the worst dreams were the ones that tried to comfort me. This is my first fic, I hope I haven't made too many errors and please let me know if you enjoyed it.
> 
> Also I edited this because I realised the Tempest "kitchen" is actually called the galley.

She was back on Habitat 7; the sky was bright and clear above her. Her helmet was broken, she couldn't see the shattered glass but she felt the shards lie flat on her cheeks. They were small, but so heavy, is that why she couldn't move? Maybe it was the sky, she felt pinned down. It was a beautiful sky, but it made her scared, she wished she knew why.

But she wasn't pinned on her back anymore. She didn't feel the ground on her back, she was looking at it. How could she see the ground if she couldn't move? Could she even feel? As soon as she searched for it, the feeling appeared. It was burning hellfire, starting deep in her lungs but spreading quickly. It was igniting what little oxygen remained, she wanted to take it out, but she knew she had to keep it in. The sensation was so unnatural it was almost chemical. There was no sound but her cells screamed for air.

Her mind wouldn’t tell her in words but it _knew_ what was happening, what it meant. It's why she couldn't fully comprehend why she crawled forward. But she knew the need in her body was different now. The burning remained but it was drowned out by a raw, instinctual plea.  _I don't want to be alone._

She's in her body as it is, matured and adult, but her soul was a child again. It was overwhelmed and hurt and it cried to be nurtured and held as the abyss closed in. It craved this from someone, and didn’t realise who until she looked up.

 _Dad_ , she could finally beg, and reached for him. He crouched in front of her, he was so close and all she needed was to reach for him. _Dad..._ _I'm sorry, don't be mad at me. Don't hate me._

And then he looked down at her, and the need turned into fear. _No..._ She pleaded without voice, _No I don't want this, I love you and I don't want you to do this._ But like the burning, she only had to search for what she feared for it to appear. His arms rose to his helmet, functional and his thread to life. She begged more now, _No-No! I didn't mean for this, I don't want this. Please, you need to know I didn't mean for this!_

She waited for the inevitable to pass, for what she knows will happen to _actually happen_. But it didn’t. The dread was suspended in the air for what felt like minutes. She doesn't remember closing her eyes but only a great, dark blankness stretched out before her. The burning isn't even there anymore, in fact she wondered if _she's_ even there anymore, when she felt arms wrap around her shoulders. She can't see what she feels but she searched again and then the sight appeared. Her lungs burned no more, her eyes stung in its place.

Held close and tight to his frame, she could only see the crook of his neck, the length of his jaw, and his chin; but she knew it was him, "Dad…" she wept.

"Hey," he murmured, "It's alright."

She didn’t know if she could speak, perhaps afraid that whatever this moment was would end if she did. All she dared was to lean into him, take what refuge she could as she swayed with him, and hoped that her heart stopped aching.

"It's alright", he continued, "It's okay. It's alright and everything is going to be okay."

 _Alright. Okay._ The words repeated over and over as a soothing mantra. She was caught and held by them, made oblivious to everything else- even oblivious to how the words, and how he too, faded away from her awareness, until...

-

Wakefulness.

The natural phenomena of sleep eroded, and reality began to set in. It wasn’t real. Alec Ryder was still dead. And she, Sara Ryder, was Pathfinder.

There were no signs to represent anything that happened in the dream. She was always a deep sleeper; the sheets hadn't rumpled and remained tucked around her just the same as when she put her head to rest. Rest was the furthest thing from what she wanted now. Ryder knew her body needed more (as Lexi often reminded her), but her heart was pulsing lead, and her throat felt swollen and left bitterness on her tongue. She sat up, greeted by a voice in her head.

_“Pathfinder, I detect heightened levels of the hormone, cortisol, in your bloodstream, along with an increased heartrate. This indicates that your sympathetic nervous system has activated the fight-or-flight response.”_

“Oh, really SAM?”, Ryder replied, “No kidding.”

 _“Your sarcasm is duly noted”_ , the AI deadpanned, _“However, there are notable findings to suggest that paying active attention to the signs of the fight-or-flight response helps alleviate symptoms.”_

Ryder huffed trying to hide a smile. The idea of an AI having almost fully-unadulterated access to her mind and body was still concerning, but Sara was kind of glad she wasn’t alone up there in that head of hers.

“Sorry for the snark, SAM. Any chance you could work some magic and tell my body to cut the shit?”

_“I am currently stimulating your neurons’ GABA receptors, which should assist in activating your rest-or-digest response, allowing for more sleep.”_

Sara pushed herself from the bed to stand, and stretched her arms above her head, “Thanks, SAM. Speaking of digestion, I’m going to get something to drink.”

_“To ensure proper sleep hygiene, I suggest refraining from using electronic devices, and avoiding any caffeinated beverages.”_

“’Kay, got it”, Ryder replied as she made her way over to her desk. She took out some pencils and a book bound by synthetic leather, before saying, “Handy-dandy notebook it is.”

Once she was out of her quarters, Sara made sure to be quiet as she made her way to the Tempest’s galley. One of the weird quirks about the ship was how sound travelled. In private areas like her own quarters no one would be able to hear inside, but everyone could always hear what went on outside in the common areas of the ship. It meant that it was rather easy to wake others when they would otherwise be sleeping, and the last thing Ryder wanted was to bother her own crew. They were having just as much of a tough time as she was after Voeld, and they deserved every moment of shut-eye they could get.

The thought of that ice-ball of a planet sent a shiver through her spine. Ryder always liked playing in snow and ice as a kid, but she hated feeling cold. Thinking of cold temperatures made her tense, trapped yet disconnected, like she was encased in glass and floating in a vacuum.

Enough of that. It was time to relax. Nothing like hot honey and lemon to soothe away troubles. She filled the kettle at the sink, then set the heat on, and all there was left to do was wait.

Drawing and writing was never something Ryder was skilled at, but she kept a journal of sorts for all her scribbles and sketches to pass the time. Sara was always fidgety, needed to keep her hands busy, and having a creative outlet helped. Sometimes her drawings had no focus in particular, just random faces she conjured up. Other times she would have a subject in mind, like she did then, leant back against the counter and scribbling the tension away, the kettle gently rumbling as it heated. She was having some difficulty with the shape of the jaw, but she enjoyed drawing this person, she enjoyed this person in general.

Indeed, sketching helped, but it wasn’t foolproof. Vestiges of the heaviness remained, and were pressing behind her sternum in prickles of fire and ice. She put down the notebook and pencil as soon as goosebumps rose across her stomach, and awaited the coming storm.

The first wave made her stomach turn, it wasn’t nausea but it was downright unpleasant. Her diaphragm liked it least, made her lungs a wet sponge. The room was too bright, so she closed her eyes, and tried to focus.

_Breathe in, breathe out. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat._

_List three things you can feel._

_Breathe in, breathe out._

_Hands on counter, hair on shoulders, slippers on feet._

_In through the nose, out through the mouth._

_Repeat._

The dread lingered, but it was fading away, ever so slowly. That was good, she thought, smaller attacks faded slowly but ended sooner. That meant that as long as she repeated the steps and no one tried to touch her, she could get through it quickly.

_List three things you can hear._

_Breathe in, breathe out._

_Kettle heating, heart beating-_

And a voice.

“Ryder?”

 _Damnit,_ _I was so close. Please_ , Sara pleaded, _just let me do this._

They were going to reach for her, Sara just knew it. Unless she sought it out at the start of an attack, touch just made it worse, too much stimulation for Sara to bear. She needed to focus on the steps, but she needed to keep this person away, and in her current state, Sara could do neither.

She almost cried with relief when she heard SAM speak.

“ _Jaal, please be advised not to make any physical contact or noise whilst the Pathfinder is in a distressed state, unless explicit consent is given.”_

Sara didn’t hear if Jaal responded, but she didn’t care. _Just go through the steps._

_Kettle rumbling, heart beating, lungs breathing._

_In through the nose, out through the mouth._

She repeated, just as required, with smell. Ryder felt the weight on her chest dissolve, only one final step was left.

_List three things you can see._

She opened her eyes.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

_The sink, coffee machine, Jaal Ama Darav._

She paused to give him a smile, then drew the last deep breath to finally expel the rest of the heavy toxin. _In through the nose, out through the mouth_. She’d have to do the steps again before going to bed, but for now all was calm after the storm. She looked back at the angaran.

“Hey Jaal.”

 “Hello, Ryder”, he replied. He opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. Sara was willing to wait. “Ryder”, he continued, “May I approach you?”

Ryder snorted, “Yeah”, she said, “The coast is clear.”

Jaal cocked his head, “The coast? Oh, is that an idiom?”

“You’re catching on quick”, she replied, adding, “It means it’s okay.”

Jaal simply nodded. He smiled, sad and worried. Ryder didn’t like that she worried him, but it was nice to see that he cared. Jaal seemed to do a lot more of that after they rescued the Moshae.

He walked towards her until he too, was leant back against the kitchen counter beside her. They weren’t touching but Sara could have sworn she felt his bioelectricity hum along her skin. It made the hairs along her arm stand in a pleasant tingle.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t the nicest wake-up call you’ve ever received, huh?”

“Hmm? No, you did not wake me. I was working in the tech lab when I heard a rushing noise.”

It was Sara’s turn to look confused, ‘til she heard a whistling from behind her.

 “Oh! You mean the kettle”, she said and turned to switch off the heat, “It’s a human invention we use for boiling water.”

She pointed at the kettle spout, “That rushing noise you heard was the escaping steam.”

“And what do you require boiling water for?”, Jaal inquired.

“Well,” she explained, “usually we use kettles for making tea, but I’m making some hot honey and lemon.”

“We Angara have things very similar to your ‘ _tee’_ , but I haven’t heard of this- uh…”

“Hot honey and lemon? Yeah, well, it’s usually a recipe for when you’re sick. Honey is this sweet, sticky substance made from pollen and nectar by insects called bees. Lemon is a really sour and tangy fruit from Earth. You make this drink by putting a tablespoon of honey and a teaspoon of lemon juice into a cup, and then hot water.”

“Ah”, Jaal noted, “So this drink’s name is very literal then?”

“Yup!”, Ryder replied, “Do you want a cup?”

“Yes, thank you”, he said, “I must admit I am curious to try it.”

Sara opened the overhead cupboard to get another mug. She put less of the honey and lemon in Jaal’s cup, thinking he’d probably get used to the taste better if it was milder first. She poured in the water from the kettle, and then handed Jaal his cup.

They drank in silence, slowly and in short sips whilst their drinks cooled. The quiet peace they shared was nice, but Sara had a feeling that Jaal would ask her about what happened, so she wasn’t surprised when he spoke.

“Does this happen very often?”

She shook her head, “No. I won’t deny that it’s a problem, but it’s not a frequent occurrence.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he took another sip, and said, “I have heard about angara experiencing similar things, and I know that sometimes they have a catalyst. I realise humans are not always keen to share, but was there anything specific that caused it?”

“Well… yes and no. I had a dream about my dad.”

“A nightmare?”

“Not really”, she replied, her thumb fiddling around the rim of her mug, “Nightmares are usually just random things. These dreams though… they sometimes start off bad but they end with nice things, and that’s the worst.”

“Forgive me, but I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay, I realise it might not make much sense”, She acknowledged as she began to explain, “I know that Dad’s death wasn’t my fault- it was his decision- but part of my mind doesn’t agree. So, in this dream, I was trying not to let him die. And he didn’t, he just held me- told me everything was going to be okay… I always thought that being able to see him again, even if he’s not there, would make me feel better; but it just feels wrong. I’m just pitying myself and my body knows it.”

Sara looked up at Jaal, and of course, he’s just as understanding as always. How is it, she thought, that these alien cat-eyes connect with me more than my own species?

“So-”, she continued, “I woke up, all stressed, and tried to calm down with these”, she said with a raise to her mug, and a nod to her notebook “It was going pretty well, but Voeld popped up and thinking about the cold made me tense- and well, you saw the rest.”

Jaal looked down at the book, and brushed his fingers along the leather. _Crap,_ she thought, hoping that he didn’t look through it to find the dozen or so portraits she drew of him, including the one she did only minutes before. _I mean, they’re not even good_. He saw her tense though, and withdrew his hand.

“Apologies,” he said with a sheepish smile, “I was not meaning to pry into your things.”

“ _Phew_ , that’s good”, she joked, “You might have uncovered my plans to steal your rofjinn, otherwise.”

Jaal chuckled. Sara _really_ liked that chuckle, and made a mental note to practice some jokes later. He put down his mug, and his face became sombre.

“Sara”, he began, “I have been meaning to thank you- properly- for what you did on Voeld. You didn’t have to listen to me like you did, but you helped the others escape anyway. So, I want to ask. What do you need, Sara?”

Ryder was taken aback. It was the first time someone called her by her first name since she came to Andromeda. She didn’t mind being called Pathfinder or Ryder, but to hear her name, with _his_ voice, made her feel a warmth she hadn’t realised she missed so much. It was good to have that again; and if a handsome alien was being nice to her, she wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

“A hug might be nice”, she grinned as she set down her mug.

She didn’t see it but she knew Jaal was smiling back when he pulled her into his arms. He rubbed his knuckles down the gap between her shoulder blades, and the universe melted away as Ryder squeezed him back. She burrowed her face into his chest, pleased to find that he wasn’t as solid as she thought. He smelt like flowers; unrecognisable, foreign and just so _exciting_.

“What you did on Voeld- and after”, he murmured against the top of her head, “was kind, Sara. _You_ are kind. It is more than I expected from you aliens.”

He nuzzled into her hair, breathing in her scent, and whispered, “I am so very glad you proved me wrong.”

His voice sent a shiver up her spine. The warmth that spread through her didn’t fill her heart’s empty cup. Instead it brought a new cup, with a different shape and purpose, and poured the heat into that. It was a terrible metaphor, but that was the best description she had.

“Yeah, well,” she mumbled, “it helps that you’re the best-looking member in the Resistance.”

He huffed a single ‘ _ha_ ’. Sara added, “Don’t tell Evfra, it’ll break his heart.”

He snickered quietly into her hair. They stayed for a few moments, holding each other, before Sara let out a yawn. They loosened their grip and pulled away.

“Well”, Sara said, “I better hit the hay before Lexi’s instincts make her realise I’m awake.”

“Hit the what?”, Jaal asked.

“It’s an idiom that means I should go to sleep”, Sara laughed.

Jaal groaned, “I hate your language. But yes, I think it is time I rest as well.”

She patted his shoulder, “Goodnight, Jaal.”

“And to you as well, Sara.”

-

Once in her quarters, Ryder put her notebook and pencils back the drawer where they belonged. She took off her slippers and lied down to do her calming exercises, but not before saying goodnight.

“Goodnight, SAM.”

“ _Goodnight, Pathfinder_.”

Sara then drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

-

Hours later, when Cora grumpily asked who left two used mugs in the galley, both human and angaran feigned ignorance.  

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was named after Tash Sultana's song of the same name, Synergy (instrumental version). Really atmospheric and to describe in basic terms, it's like if sci-fi had surfer music. If you liked my fic, please let me know what you liked about it, it really helps to know what my strengths are.


End file.
